RB Kitty story invite (Rocky's Story" reposted - Longish)

In another thread Lori (catnipped) said she enjoyed reading a post I
made about Rocky, who departed for the bridge not long ago. She said,
and I agree, that it's good to hear about our companions who are
waiting for us at the Bridge. So I went back and edited "Rocky's
Story, which was originally posted last September. I'm inviting those
of you with a favorite story about a RB kitty to post it, whether it's
a new story or just a repost for those (like me) who are too lazy to
wirte something new.

============
Rocky's (RB) Story (in his own words)
(Re-edited and an Epilogue added, but original posted in early
September, 2004)
==========
Part One - I Become the King

It's been a while now since I joined my family, so I figured it was
time to sit down and tell my story. I probably wouldn't bother, but
the one the hoomin calls Sammy tells me both she and her momma, Little
Bit, have told their stories and so guess I should tell mine.

I can't tell you much about my early years. Really have no idea how
old I am. I know that the cold and hot times came several times. My
Momma taught me how to hunt for food, how to find cool spots when it
was hot, and warm spots during the cold times. Momma taught me from an
early age that hoomins weren't to be trusted. I figure she was right
about most stuff, but I've found that at least SOME hoomins are OK.

When I got bigger, momma and I got separated. I really don't know
where she went. Things were pretty rough there for a while. All the
older, bigger cats didn't want me around. I regularly got beat up
until I learned how to fight and protect myself. After a couple more
hot and cold times came and went, it got so that I was winning more
fights than I was losing.

Things were starting to look up. I established my own little territory
where I was the King. All the other cats in the neighborhood gave me
the respect I deserved. When some young upstart gave me grief, I'd
either whip 'em into shape or make their life so miserable that they
moved out of my kingdom. There were always hoomins around, but I
avoided them as much as I could.

Part Two - Changes

After living the good life for a couple more hot and cold times, a
couple things happened that changed my life. You see there was a group
of hoomin dwellings in my kingdom where a brown-nosed tom cat used to
hang around. I later learned he was what the hoomins call a tuxedo
kitty. He had a white face and a black nose. I always called him
"brown-nose" because of how he was always cozying up to the hoomins.
The hoomins called him Spot, and he always claimed he was an official
"apartment complex cat". It sure worked for him, he used to go inside
the various hoomin houses to sleep at night, got out of the worst
weather, and got all the best food.

The other thing that happened which ended up changing my life was that
about this time a new hoomin moved into one of the hoomin houses.
Eventually I'd end up trusting this particular hoomin, even let him
pet me, but that was still in the future. The first thing about this
new hoomin that changed my life was when he learned about Spot he
started putting food outside for Spot to eat. Guess the hoomin hoped
Spot would come in and spend the night sleeping on his bed. I couldn't
have cared less about going into the hoomin's house, but the food he
put out was GOOD, and I started eating it, too.

Life was even better than before. All us neighborhood cats had a new
source of good food, which is always welcome when you're not sure when
the next meal is coming. At first I ran and hid whenever I saw the
hoomin, but over time I learned that he wouldn't throw things or chase
me away. So, after a time I stopped running whenever I saw him. After
a while longer I started going closer and waiting next to the bowl
while he filled it up with the good stuff. I learned a startling fact,
it actually feels nice when a hoomin scritches you in that certain
spot that you just can't seem to reach behind your ear.

Part Three - Betrayal and My First TED Visit

Life was good. I had the occasional challenge to my rule of my
kingdom, but still won most, if not all, of my fights. After one
fight, though, I had a war wound that just wouldn't get better. It
REALLY hurt and just wouldn't heal. The hoomin noticed that my leg was
swollen about three times the size of the other one. He tried to touch
it, but I wasn't about to put up with that, so I hightailed and stayed
away for a while.

After a couple days I was getting really hungry, so I decided to go
back and see if he was still putting food out. When I got there the
food bowl was full, and I was so hungry I let the hoomin take a close
look. The next morning when I went back to eat the hoomin was there
waiting for me. I bent over the bowl and he snatched me up and stuck
me in a box with bars. Next thing I knew he carried me over to one of
those big moving monsters that the hoomins sit in and ride around in.
The hoomin put me inside the monster, it made a lot of noise and we
were moving.

It seemed like forever, but probably very all that long before we
stopped and the hoomin carried me inside a different hoomin place. The
hoomin talked to some other hoomin, then after waiting a while carried
me to a smaller room. We waited again until another strange hoomin
came. This was the worst hoomin yet, and I was really beginning to
think momma had been right after all when she told me not to trust
hoomins.

This new hoomin looked at me through the bars on the box, and they
opened the side of the box. I made a break for it, but there was no
place to go. They threw something over me and held me so I couldn't
defend myself while this new hoomin poked and prodded me. It ended up
with this new hoomin sticking me with something sharp, but it didn't
TOO hurt much. When they put the box with the bars on the table I
decided it was a lot safer inside the box than outside. So, when they
loosened their grip a bit I darted back into that box. Turned out,
though, that's what they wanted. The hoomins exchanged some of their
strange noises. The hoomin who betrayed my trust picked up the box,
and carried me back to the moving monster. After the monster stopped
moving again, the hoomin picked up the bar-box. When he put down the
box I found I was back where the ordeal had started.

The hoomin opened the side of the box, and I was OUT OF THERE. It may
sound strange, but after the trip in the monster and having that
strange hoomin stab me with the sharp stick, my leg stopped hurting
and healed up a lot quicker than war wounds normally do. Just to be
safe, though, I stayed away for several days before I went back to
check for food. For a long time I didn't trust the hoomin and kept my
distance. Eventually I forgave him, after all he kept putting out
food, and things went back to the way they were before.

Part Four - Little Bit and Sammy Move In - Another TED Visit

I was still the King, I lived the good life, my sore leg was good as
new. Sometime during this period Spot, the self proclaimed "complex"
cat, disappeared. I heard the hoomin say later that he had gotten
himself locked inside one of those BIG moving monsters with some
hoomin's furniture and hauled off to someplace called California.
Serves old brown nose right. I hear he's happy though, he stopped
being a "complex" cat and had his very own hoomin family.

Another cold time came and went. One of the neighborhood girl cats,
Little Bit, moved in with the hoomin and had some babies. She started
living inside with the hoomin and her daughter Sammy. I trusting the
hoomin again, and even went inside the hoomin's apartment to eat
sometimes - the food inside was better than what the hoomin put out
for us neighborhood cats.

Things were good, until another young whippersnapper challenged me and
I had to put the little pipsqueak in his place. I had another one of
those swollen leg wounds which just won't heal. The hoomin tried to
stick me inside the box with bars, but I remembered what happened the
last time and took off and stayed away for a couple days. Guess I was
getting spoiled by the regular supply of good food, though, and it's
hard to get enough to eat when it hurts to walk. Eventually I went
back.

Since it was so hard to walk with my wound, the hoomin managed to
catch me and stick me in the box again. It was a repeat of the first
time - into the moving monster, back to the smelly hoomin place,
stabbed by the strange hoomin, then back to where it all started. I
took off again as soon as the hoomin put down the box and opened the
bars, but didn't stay away as long this time. You know, there may just
something about that stick the strange hoomin stabs you with, because
in no time the wound healed.

Part Five - I Become Part of the Family and Get a Name

Things went back to normal. More hot times followed by cold times came
and went. Life was good. Then the hoomin started saying he might move.
He started asking me if I wanted to go some place and become a "barn
cat". He said something about having something fixed before I became a
barn cat. I had no clue what he was talking about. I tried to tell him
I was the King, life was good, nothing needed fixing, and I had no
intention of becoming a barn cat - whatever the h*ll a barn cat was.

One day when I went to eat he was waiting there with the bar-box.
There was no way I was going to go into that thing, especially not
this time when I didn't even have a sore leg. I took off and stayed
away for a few days. I checked a couple times, but he had stopped
putting out food. One day when I went back to check the food bowl, he
opened the door and invited me inside to eat. By that time I was
pretty hungry, so I went inside. Turns out that was a BIG mistake,
because as soon as I started eating he dropped something over me.
Before I could escape I was back inside that blasted bar-box and on
the way to the monster.

This time we ended up at a different smelly place. The hoomin
abandoned me and left me there with strangers. I ended up being held
captive for a couple days. The second day the hoomins did something to
me, I guess they fixed whatever they thought was broken. Finally, on
the third day MY hoomin came back and rescued me. I knew he was the
one who had taken me to the smelly place, but I forgave him right away
this time since he came back and rescued me. I figured I'd better do a
little sucking up or he would take me wherever that "barn" was - if
this was what was meant by "Fixing" I sure didn't want to find out
what he meant by "barn cat".

Sammy, one of the girl cats who lives with the hoomin, was actually
pretty helpful telling me how to get the hoomin to let me become part
of the family. Little Bit, Sammy's mom, didn't like me, and kept
telling me how much fun I'd have as a barn cat. She didn't fool me
though, and I followed Sammy's advice. It worked, too. When it came
time for me to leave and go wherever barn cats go, the hoomin decided
to let me stay. I wasn't always too sure when Sammy told me how to get
on the hoomin's good side, but decided she's a pretty smart little
cat.

Lots of things have changed since I joined the family. Guess the first
thing was when I got a hoomin name. Before the hoomin called me the
"mostly white, black and white tom cat", or just Whitey for short.
Once I became family he started calling me Rocky. He said I was named
after some movie about a boxer named Rocky Balboa, which I thought was
kind of neat. The girls teased me and said the name fit because I was
brain damaged like that Balboa fighter was in some later movie, but I
didn't really care - it was my name and I like it just fine.

I've learned a lot of neat things, too. Once I became part of the
family I started making strange sounds that the hoomin calls meows,
and I started making a rumbling noise he calls purrs. After watching
the other cats I decided to try jumping up on the hoomin's lap for
scritches, which is even better than head rubbing when I'm on the
ground. And BRUSHING - it feels so GOOD when the hoomin strokes me
with the brush-thingy. Once I was sure the hoomin wasn't going to do
anything that would hurt, Sammy introduced me to toys. I had pretty
much forgotten how to play since it had been so long since I could
really relax while I had been living by my wits. Now I can relax and
play, and playing is FUN.

If life was good before, it's GREAT now. I'm still the King, just
semi-retired. For some reason I'm not interested in the girl cats like
I used to be. I stay here at the hoomin's place most of the time,
instead of roaming the neighborhood. I still get the respect of the
other neighborhood cats, but seldom have to face any challenges and
fight - in fact I haven't had a real fight since I was fixed. Maybe
that's what they meant by getting fixed - if so it was worth it even
if I was sort of scared at the time.

Epilogue:

Sadly, Rocky didn't live out his retirement with me nearly as long as
I would have liked. He was never really keen on staying inside for
very long, though he did get so that he was home most nights. One
night, with bad weather in the forecast, he wasn't home at his usual
time. I went looking for him, and found him dragging himself home,
unable to use his rear legs. I posted here in RPCA about his
condition, and received an outpouring of support, not just morale
support and purrs, but financial support which paid the vet bills.
Unfortunately, this was his final fight. After showing some initial
improvement and regaining feeling and some movement, he passed away.

I guess I'm done grieving his loss, only a little tightening of the
throat as I've edited his story and added this epilogue. He will
always hold a special place in my heart. I watched him change from a
true feral into a loving companion. I understand that some ferals
never make the transition into a pet, but he certainly did. There is
something truly special as you watch a former feral discover the joys
of lap time, brushes, toys, etc, and rediscovering how to purr -
something long forgotten from his kitten days.
--
Steve Touchstone,
faithful servant of Sammy, Little Bit and Spot
with loving memories of Rocky (RB)

[remove Junk for email]
Home Page: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/index.html
Cat Pix: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/animals.html

Steve Touchstone wrote:
In another thread Lori (catnipped) said she enjoyed reading a post I
made about Rocky, who departed for the bridge not long ago. She said,
and I agree, that it's good to hear about our companions who are
waiting for us at the Bridge. So I went back and edited "Rocky's
Story, which was originally posted last September. I'm inviting those
of you with a favorite story about a RB kitty to post it, whether it's
a new story or just a repost for those (like me) who are too lazy to
wirte something new.

============
(snipped Rocky's tale)


This is a good idea, Steve - I am going to take this opportunity to
post about our lawcat Tiger, who went missing months ago and is
presumed to have joined our Mikey and your Rocky and the other beloved
rpca kitties at the RB.

Tiger was one of our masters, though we don't know if he really
considered us to be his slaves. He came and went on his own schedule,
and didn't have very much use for humans. He'd always show up at least
once a day to eat except in exceptionally bad weather, but we never
knew where he slept or spent most of his time. In cold weather we
would fix a box for him, with blankets and a Snuggle Safe heating pad,
but he scorned the boxes and this resulted in his being boarded at
TED's on the coldest nights of the year. He hated that. We always
hoped to make an inside kitty out of him, but he would have none of it.
We were eventually able to entice him inside for very short periods,
but if we closed the door he went into a blind panic.

It took Tiger a while to warm up to us enough to accept petting, but
once he could bring himself to let us touch him he found that he
looooooved his scritches. If he happened to be in the mood for some
affection, he'd lie on my feet, gnaw on my fingers, and drool
copiously. If he did *not* happen to need any scritches that day, we
couldn't touch him.

Tiger also loved the catnip, and would actually venture inside for it.
One day not long before he disappeared we'd had a lot of people in the
office and had put away the cardboard scratcher so people wouldn't be
tripping over it; it usually stayed in front of my desk, loaded up with
nip. Tiger came in, looked at the place where the scratcher wasn't,
looked at me, and went marching right back out the door.

Tiger was a roly-poly little fellow, possibly the most completely round
kitty I've ever seen. He was brown and black and beige and gray, with
a few stripes but mostly sort of brindled in no particular pattern. He
had huge green eyes and enormously long whiskers, a disproportionately
short tail and big feet, and little silky black ears. He was kind of a
funny looking little guy, but we loved him. :-)

We wish we knew what happened to him, and we wish he was here with us.
We wish he had allowed us to bring him inside and spoil him silly, but
we remind ourselves that he had the life he wanted. He got as much of
the society of humans as he cared to have, and he did as he pleased.
Still, we will always miss our little sweet Tigerman, and will look for
him when we ourselves get to the RB.

------
Krista

Sorry to hear about Tiger. His story sounds an awful lot like Rocky's,
who also got frantic when I first started bringing him inside. In time
Rocky got so that he'd spend all night inside, but he made it plain
wouldn't be happy without his time in the OUT.

On 14 Jul 2005 08:42:10 -0700, "Krista"
wrote:

Tiger was one of our masters, though we don't know if he really
considered us to be his slaves. He came and went on his own schedule,
and didn't have very much use for humans. He'd always show up at least
once a day to eat except in exceptionally bad weather, but we never
knew where he slept or spent most of his time. In cold weather we
would fix a box for him, with blankets and a Snuggle Safe heating pad,
but he scorned the boxes and this resulted in his being boarded at
TED's on the coldest nights of the year. He hated that. We always
hoped to make an inside kitty out of him, but he would have none of it.
We were eventually able to entice him inside for very short periods,
but if we closed the door he went into a blind panic.

It took Tiger a while to warm up to us enough to accept petting, but
once he could bring himself to let us touch him he found that he
looooooved his scritches. If he happened to be in the mood for some
affection, he'd lie on my feet, gnaw on my fingers, and drool
copiously. If he did *not* happen to need any scritches that day, we
couldn't touch him.

Tiger also loved the catnip, and would actually venture inside for it.
One day not long before he disappeared we'd had a lot of people in the
office and had put away the cardboard scratcher so people wouldn't be
tripping over it; it usually stayed in front of my desk, loaded up with
nip. Tiger came in, looked at the place where the scratcher wasn't,
looked at me, and went marching right back out the door.

Tiger was a roly-poly little fellow, possibly the most completely round
kitty I've ever seen. He was brown and black and beige and gray, with
a few stripes but mostly sort of brindled in no particular pattern. He
had huge green eyes and enormously long whiskers, a disproportionately
short tail and big feet, and little silky black ears. He was kind of a
funny looking little guy, but we loved him. :-)

We wish we knew what happened to him, and we wish he was here with us.
We wish he had allowed us to bring him inside and spoil him silly, but
we remind ourselves that he had the life he wanted. He got as much of
the society of humans as he cared to have, and he did as he pleased.
Still, we will always miss our little sweet Tigerman, and will look for
him when we ourselves get to the RB.

------
Krista

--
Steve Touchstone,
faithful servant of Sammy, Little Bit and Spot
with loving memories of Rocky (RB)

[remove Junk for email]
Home Page: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/index.html
Cat Pix: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/animals.html